<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Elysium by Riathel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524648">Elysium</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riathel/pseuds/Riathel'>Riathel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Bad Sex, Broken Bones, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Classic Doctor Who References, Crack Treated Seriously, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Exhibitionism, F/M, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Pegging, Sexual Dysfunction, Stockholm Syndrome, The Master Is Having A Bad Day, The Master has Death Grip, The Year That Never Was (Doctor Who), Threesome - F/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:00:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riathel/pseuds/Riathel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master is trying to get Lucy and the Doctor to entertain him properly. Sadly, they don't do a very good job.</p><p>—</p><p>  <i>“Keep your eyes on me,” he adds, “or I’ll break her other hand.”</i></p><p>  <i>The Doctor wheezes, his limbs unsteady, back stretched unnaturally in that tight cage. “You don’t need to do this.”</i></p><p>  <i>The Master just laughs: a laugh that turns into a moan as Lucy pushes slowly inside of him. Maybe their game will stop when the Doctor learns to stop saying that. He doubts it’ll ever happen.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tenth Doctor/Lucy Saxon, Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Lucy Saxon, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Vislor Turlough (mentioned), The Master (Ainley)/Nyssa of Traken (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Elysium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a very healing fic to write for me, but it touches on themes that are very emotional and dark. Please heed the tags and I provide further, explicit warnings at the bottom for the actual content.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucy angles herself in the only way he permits, one hand anchoring his hip, and grips the dildo attached to the strap-on at her pubis. She strokes it smoothly, as though she can gain any pleasure from this, even though he didn’t instruct her to pretend — or, no, it’s to spread out the lubrication further, slicking it over the bright pink head.</p><p>“Isn’t she clever?” the Master says, grinning at the only person in the room. Lucy strokes her cock a few more times; every time it’s the same length, the same speed. She reminds him a bit of an Auton. Prettier though: at least, she is when he’s picking out her wardrobe and her makeup. The nude lipstick didn’t do anything for her. But that pink gloss, mmm, delicious. He could ravish her. He knows he could, because he does, daily. More than daily. “You could have taught your pets to do this. Oh! Maybe you did, maybe <em>that’s</em> why you’re so attached.”</p><p>He doesn’t get a response; it curdles his grin into a clench of teeth. Only he gets to decide what sort of response he gets. He’s <em>owed</em> a response.</p><p>The Doctor flinches when his dog crate is kicked. He’s frail of form, dry of skin, but his eyes still glitter with the sullen intensity he’s held these past months.</p><p>“Which one of them did you fuck, Doctor?” the Master repeats. “Go on, tell me.”</p><p>There’s something that flickers across the Doctor’s wrinkled, marred face. An ugly emotion, something raw and feral. The Master can’t get enough. He bounces on his heels, circling the crate, making the Doctor shuffle to keep his gaze on the Master.</p><p>“You do keep so many women dripping off you. Let me guess, let me guess,” the glee in his voice spills out into another kick of the crate when the Doctor tries to give up circling. With a grunt, the Doctor keeps shuffling. “Was it the leggy slut in the bikini?”</p><p>“No,” the Doctor wheezes. “I never—”</p><p>“Ooh, okay, okay, no, I can get there — <em>Nyssa!</em> Surely you took her for a spin?”</p><p>“No,” he says, lungs rattling with dry asphyxiation.</p><p>“Pity,” the Master says lightly, “You missed out.”</p><p>The hate in the Doctor’s eyes is so lovely he starts laughing; low at first, then breaking into the high giggling that would have befitted the father he stole from her.</p><p>“No women then,” he hums, slows his pace, like he’s about to give up. “How about the ginger?”</p><p>The Doctor goes rigid — enough for him to lose his breath entirely, and nearly drop to his side. </p><p>The Master settles back into place in front of Lucy. She’s a good girl; <em>she</em> didn’t flinch. She hasn’t moved, waiting for him to get back into position, functionless and without any purpose that doesn’t involve pleasing him. Doggy style for this time; it’s only appropriate. </p><p>“Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah, thought so. Cockslut.” He pauses, the moment spinning out before him deliciously. “Get up.” Then he glances back at Lucy, and snaps his fingers.</p><p>Her glossy lips curve into something that used to be a smile; she reaches for his hip again, realigning herself perfectly, as if he’d never bolted up to torment the Doctor. They’ve been playing this game for hours. Days, weeks. Months. It’s not a game that’s ever going to stop. </p><p>That was the first thing he taught her. She’s only smiling because anything else would be wrong.</p><p>The Doctor’s still resting on the floor, breathing in and out like he’s been hit. Spit dribbles from his chin. It’s repulsive. Almost as awful as his continued defiance at the most petty of commands.</p><p>“Get up,” the Master hisses. He grabs Lucy’s hand this time, and she makes a quiet noise. “Get up, <em>get up.</em>” He clenches down harder, until she gives a short, well-timed cry of two seconds. The Doctor doesn’t move.</p><p>The Master closes his eyes. His heartsbeats are thudding in his ears; why does the Doctor persist in being so ungrateful?</p><p>Without thinking about it too hard, he squeezes the hand he’s holding. The bones crunch beneath his strength — Lucy retches, quivering, but staying still — and the flesh suddenly goes soft and pliant. He can feel the fragments of her metacarpals, sharp against her skin, jutting out.</p><p>“Look at her, Doctor,” the Master says, clucking in sympathy. “She’s crying.”</p><p>She isn’t making any noises now, although tears are leaking from her eyes. With a hateful groan, a glare, the Doctor hauls himself to his elbows and knees.</p><p>Her hand feels especially hot when the Master presses it deeper into his hip. “Good girl,” he croons, looking the Doctor in the eye. “You can start now.”</p><p>She uses her other hand to guide the dildo into place. His ass is already lubricated from the fingerfucking she’d been giving him earlier. He sighs, rolling his shoulders, relaxing into the tip of the dildo.</p><p>“Keep your eyes on me,” he adds, “or I’ll break her other hand.”</p><p>The Doctor wheezes, his limbs unsteady, back stretched unnaturally in that tight cage. “You don’t need to do this.”</p><p>The Master just laughs: a laugh that turns into a moan as Lucy pushes slowly inside of him. Maybe their game will stop when the Doctor learns to stop saying that. He doubts it’ll ever happen.</p><p>“So, the ginger at least,” he continues, “Who else?”</p><p>“No one,” the Doctor mutters. That bright gaze is back on the Master, and he feels like a plant being given sun. Vital, life-giving attention.</p><p>He tuts, shifts his hips to adjust better, and opens himself up to take more cock. “If you were a monogamist, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”</p><p>The Doctor doesn’t respond again, but that’s alright. He can be awed into silence by the Master’s wit. That’s permissible.</p><p>He’s distracted by how much the dildo hurts. It’s stretching him further than he thought it would; did he miscalculate? No. He can’t have. He knows what the limits of his body are. She’s not doing it right.</p><p>Lucy groans as he grinds her mangled hand; the Doctor perks up, pressing against the bars of the cage, closer towards them. </p><p>“You’re trying my patience,” the Master hisses. “Fuck me slower.”</p><p>“Yes, Master,” she says, voice even, toneless.</p><p>The Doctor’s pleading with those stupid, brown eyes. It’s vile. It’s all so vile. The Master forces a smirk onto his face, as the dildo pushes in.</p><p>There. Yeah, yeah, that’s better. He can relax into that, open up, thrust a little bit back onto Lucy; work his hips, mutter, “Stay <em>still</em>,” and fuck himself since she’s so fucking woeful at it. Yeah, that’s good, right there. Only he knows the best way to pleasure himself.</p><p>“I’ve worked it out!” he crows. “I’m asking the wrong question. <em>How</em> many of them did you fuck?”</p><p>He’s bouncing on the cock now, feeling it sinking deeper and deeper into him, it’s so good, it’s so good, he wants it to be so good, but — it’s enough except it’s not, deep but too shallow. His scant pleasure turns to frustration again.</p><p>“None of them,” the Doctor whispers.</p><p>“Liar,” he snaps. “Fuck me harder.”</p><p>Lucy starts pistoning in and out, perfectly, hitting a spot inside him that makes him moan. He clenches around the dildo, so tight, the perfect friction of rubber. His own cock is so thick, so hard, so magnificent; he thinks he might come hands-free.</p><p>“Yeah,” he groans, “Yeah, yeah, more—”</p><p>She fucks a little too deep into him, and it <em>hurts</em>. He yelps, hauls around, and backhands her instinctively.</p><p>“Stupid bitch,” he spits, “You fucking ruined it, you dumb—how could you—”</p><p>“Sorry, Master,” she gasps, wide eyed, shocked almost out of her blankness. “Sorry, Master. Please forgive me, Master.”</p><p>“Stop it,” the Doctor says, frantic, “Stop it, stop, no, no.”</p><p>The Master covers up his shaking hands by balling one up — Lucy flinches — and scrabbling into his underwear. “Stupid bitch,” he repeats, calmer. Not totally soothed, but not acting on pure emotional drive. His arse is throbbing. Fuck, it hurts. “You need another lesson.”</p><p>“Yes, Master,” she says, voice dull.</p><p>He rubs at his thigh. He doesn’t want them to know he’s still aching; nobody can, not even his two best pets. There’s nothing to hand in the bedroom right now to hurt Lucy with. He glances around, the pounding in his arse rising through his blood, up, into his ears, into his brain. Everything’s fucked. This plan is collapsing, because the two pillars couldn’t just take a fucking hint.</p><p>Then his gaze alights on the Doctor, still straining against the cage, still wet-eyed, still mouthing out pleas.</p><p>“Take off your strap-on,” the Master says. “Open his cage.”</p><p>Cradling her injured hand, Lucy rises and unlocks the dog crate. The Doctor snuffles and goes quiet, like he’s surrendering — but he keeps glancing between her and the Master. Almost like he’s trying to analyse the situation. Plot. Plan.</p><p>He won’t be able to plan around this.</p><p>“So you’ve never fucked a woman before,” the Master says, contemplatively, palming his erection. He’s starting to get harder again. This is good. This is the new plan. “Why don’t I give you a treat? You can train Lucy for me.”</p><p>The Doctor’s face goes so wonderfully slack, so horrified. Lucy’s stays blank.</p><p>“No, no—” he says; Lucy starts removing his pants. He’s so frail he can’t even push her off properly. She frees his cock quickly.</p><p>“Half-hard already, Doctor? Oh, you little <em>deviant,</em>” the Master croons, then adds, “Use your mouth.”</p><p>Lucy gives great blowjobs. He knows exactly how well he’s guided her to take cock at any time. She tongues the tip of the Doctor’s cock, works his length into her mouth with robotic consistency, encouraging bliss. But the Doctor’s not paying attention, still half-torn between comforting Lucy, muttering, “You can stop, please, Lucy—”</p><p>“Shut up,” the Master says, laughing. “You’re a dreadful teacher, Doctor. She won’t learn anything like that. Stroke him now,” he adds, snapping his fingers with his off hand. He starts fisting himself in time with Lucy’s hand. The Doctor gives a sudden pained gasp.</p><p>“No, that’s too hard, stop, I can’t,” he stutters, “I can’t, I c-can’t...”</p><p>“Softer, Lucy, softer! You don’t want to scrape his dick clean off.” He examines the Doctor’s cock — there’s no blood, no stripped skin, not even a tear. “Keep going.”</p><p>She changes her grip, pulling at the Doctor — slowly, to build his erection back up, thumb swirling around his glistening tip. He’s so <em>wrinkly.</em> There are warts, stray grey pubes. The skin’s so floppy, so dry and droopy; this ancient body is disgusting.</p><p>“You’re lucky anyone’s touching you when you look like this, Doctor,” the Master says, making a face. “Your dick is <em>ugly.</em> It’s putting me off my wank.” He snaps his fingers again. “Cover it up.”</p><p>“With what?” the Doctor asks, eyeing him.</p><p>“Wasn’t talking to you,” he sing-songs.</p><p>Lucy’s got herself into position, tugging off her underwear and putting it on the floor. He’s pleased to see it’s not wet; still clean and perfect, she can wear it again afterwards. He likes that set of lingerie.</p><p>Her red dress gets shuffled up around her hips. The Doctor doesn’t know what to make of it until she’s straddling him, and it’s too late for the Doctor, far, far too late.</p><p>“And you’re trying to escape anyway, of course,” the Master narrates, his hips jerking uncontrollably, freely pumping his cock, “because you’re an idiot — just lie back and enjoy it. Think of <em>home.</em>”</p><p>The Master would break the Doctor’s rebellious, scrabbling hands, but the pressure on his cock is almost good, almost enough, he just needs to reach that last little bit—</p><p>“Stopstopstopstopstop,” the Doctor sobs.</p><p>“He’s soft, Master,” Lucy says, like they’re discussing the weather. “He keeps slipping out.”</p><p>He could almost scream, his cresting orgasm slipping away at the last moment. “Then <em>put him back in,</em>” he shouts. “For <em>fuck’s</em> — do I have to do <em>everything?”</em></p><p>Lucy makes some sort of noise when he throws her off, or maybe she doesn’t. He doesn’t care either way. She’s failed him.</p><p>He plucks at the Doctor’s dry cock. Rubs at the rubbery skin. The Doctor squints at him through rheumy eyes — now <em>he’s</em> crying. Good. Finally. Even if he’s still struggling to give the Master no reaction, the reactions are leaking out with every new torment. The Master can still salvage this, if he acts quickly. </p><p>“So that’s why you never fucked them,” he muses, “you’re impotent.” He flicks at the Doctor’s cock — amusingly, with a little bit of the Master’s attention, it’s starting to harden again. “Too much of a painslut, can’t get hard unless someone’s hurting you.” Another couple of flicks, and the Doctor’s completely stiff; his mouth is a thin line of disapprobation. The Master palms himself again, tempted to measure his cock against the Doctor’s even though he knows he must be bigger. He won’t. It might seem insecure. “I could always tell the ginger one was a fellow sadist. Fun little thing.”</p><p>He runs a reverent hand down the Doctor’s disgusting penis, traces his balls, cups each one in his hand.</p><p>“Does it get you off when they call you a faggot?” the Master asks.</p><p>The look on the Doctor’s face is nothing short of loathing. The Master breaks into a rolling chuckle; it’s more strained than his last laugh, but neither Lucy nor the Doctor are speaking now, and he’ll snap her little neck if either of them point it out. </p><p>His cock has gotten overheated with the excess pressure, and it stings when he holds it too tightly. The line between pleasureable, diverting pain and irritation is strangling his fucking dick right now.</p><p>He keeps going. He’ll make it back there if he strokes himself long enough; he’ll make it back to the peak of orgasm and then tip over, prove both of them wrong, neither of them are strong enough to ruin his fun. But they’re not <em>doing</em> anything — and that’s abrasive. They should be performing.</p><p>“Use his mouth,” he directs, snapping at Lucy. The Doctor tries to slide away on his back, can’t even make it to his feet at the moment; that’s starting to get the Master back into the mood.</p><p>“It’s been six hours,” he announces. “Six hours, and I haven’t come once. What use are either of you? Don’t answer, Doctor, you’re preoccupied.”</p><p>“Please forgive me, Master,” Lucy says automatically.</p><p>His arse still smarts. His cock is tender and over-sensitive, and he’s so, so horny, with no end in sight.</p><p>“We’re not stopping until I hit my daily limit,” he says. “Buckle in, kiddos.”</p><p>Lucy smiles. The Doctor, muffled by her cunt, unable to breathe, just groans.</p><p>It’s a start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Warnings: explicit domestic violence, gaslighting, rape, brainwashing, referenced incest, the Master breaks Lucy's hand, the Master blames the Doctor and Lucy for everything, misogynistic slurs, homophobic slurs, objectification, goalpost moving, the Doctor is in his grandpa form, sexual humiliation, and in general the Master is being his usual, lovely self.</b>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>